


To Do What Is Necessary

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Everybody Lives, Except Vodemort - obviously, F/F, Hogwarts Inter-House Relationships, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29690796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Snape dies in the Shrieking Shack, an old piece of Slytherin House magic kicks in, reaching down through the years to change Pansy Parkinson's life forever. Now, Pansy's biggest enemy is her own reputation - and winning requires making nice with Gryffindorks. It's not all bad, though: after all, Hermione Grangeristhe most 'talented' witch of her age.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson
Kudos: 22
Collections: Five Figure Fanwork Exchange 2020





	1. To Ask

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flipflop_diva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/gifts).



> I'm mostly going by book-canon here, but I borrow a bit from the movie-verse, as one does. Hope you enjoy!

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\

The third 1 May, 1998 Pansy lives through starts like this:

Daffy's alarm charm chirps, criminally cheerful for the hour, waking Pansy while Daffy sleeps on. Just as usual.

Milly growls and launches her pillow blindly towards Daffy - a miss - before burrowing entirely under her covers, trying to block it out. Just as usual.

Tracey, who is a disgusting morning person and has already been awake for ages, pauses in doing her hair to say, "Time to get up, girls," then goes right back to getting her fringe just so. Just as usual.

And Pansy lays in bed, delaying the part where she actually has to admit she's awake and considering the merits of hexing her housemates. Also, just as usual.

That's the problem with sharing a room with the same people for seven years: there's nothing surprising about waking up in exactly the same way day after day after day. Even this school year hasn't made that much of a difference to how Pansy's year of Slytherin girls starts the day. They, after all, are the favoured ones. _As they should be._ So, that's her excuse as to why it doesn't occur to her until they're leaving the Great Hall after breakfast that there's something strange going on. 

What does it is Milly saying, "I'm for Herbology," and moving to split off from their group.

Pansy, quite obviously, says, "Isn't it Friday?" _But not: is there Herbology for anyone to go to today, after all? Didn't the Dark Lord just spend the night attacking Hogwarts? Did he actually keep his promise and go away after he got his hands on Potter?_

"Thursday, Pans," Milly says, only somewhat meanly. "So I'll see you in Charms." And then she's striding off with her rucksack slung over her shoulder.

"I know my own timetable," Pansy protests to Milly's retreating back. She may have a reputation for being more interested in the latest fashions than the latest charms, but she's not a complete idiot.

Daffy shakes her head, laughingly, and says, "Just that ready for the weekend, are you?"

And Tracey says, "Or that Charms essay did her head in."

Pansy sniffs, but doesn't dignify any of that with a reply. She can't help that she clearly remembers turning that Charms essay in already. Twice.

They lose Daffy to Arithmancy, after that - even she doesn't want to be caught in the corridors when she's meant to be in a lesson, this year. And it's probably just as well that Tracey suggests they go commandeer the chairs by the biggest fireplace in the common room. Just as they'd done… the day before. Which, if all the rest of them are to be believed, is today.

Was today?

Pansy makes a face - she's really not stupid, no matter what anyone says, but she's not sure she's clever enough for talking sensibly about a day that already happened but is also the same day that is presently happening. And may yet be going to happen again, if she's unlucky. Fortunately - or unfortunately - it seems nobody else is aware there's anything to talk about.

So, for now: on with today, again.

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\

They evict a pair of sixth years from the seats closest to the fireplace - the sixth years will, of course, in their turn do the same to next year's sixth years…

_...if next year eventually comes. If Pansy figures out why the universe has decided to get stuck on 1 May, 1998 - and gets it unstuck again…_

...because that's the cycle of Slytherin life - and settle in to at least pretend to study. They should be sitting their N.E.W.T.s a month from now, so they perhaps ought to actually study, but Pansy knows that Tracey plans to spend their double free period writing a letter to her mother, and as for Pansy, herself, well. As far as she's concerned, the most important thing she could be doing is a bit of research and thinking, under cover of giving that Charms essay one last going over. 

When she tucks her legs up sidesaddle and settles back in the chair with her schoolbag in her lap, she already has an idea of what she'll find when she looks inside - and she's right. The parchment with her essay is right where she'd tucked it before she went to bed, and the set of Charms notes she remembers replacing it with is missing. There shouldn't be a new set of Astronomy notes, and there isn't. The quill she broke doing DADA revision sits whole in her [pencil case].

Aside from her memories - where the Dark Lord's sibillant, sinister voice lingers, unwanted and unwelcome - there's no sign that any of it has already happened.

Pansy shudders and looks up from her bag to glance at Tracey, sitting across from her, steadily putting quill to parchment. She remembers none of this, as best Pansy can tell. She hasn't already lived an entire day like remembering a dream in incredibly vivid detail...only to find that the dream was painfully, horribly real. Her letter is surely full of ordinary things, lessons and mealtimes and sitting by the fire like this in the evenings, not the twin horrors of being surrounded by the Dark Lord's voice and huddling in their common room, after, waiting. 

And Pansy's certain, now, that it wasn't a dream. 

Because while even she has felt the effects of the past year, as little as they've been allowed to touch her, she can't see why she would've dreamt up the Dark Lord laying siege to Hogwarts. For all the things that might've given her cause to worry, none of them have involved the Dark Lord properly bringing the battle to them. After all, Potter had been a good little Gryffindor and kept his little gang - and thus the Dark Lord's attention - elsewhere. 

Right up until, well, today.

Of course, he probably thinks he has a good reason for turning up at Hogwarts while all the students are still here; he's always seemed to think so in the past, whenever he pulled another of his dangerous stunts. But she rather wishes he hadn't. Especially since she's stuck living the day he arrived (and brought the Dark Lord with him) over and over again. But as much as she'd like to blame it on him, she has to admit (at least to herself) that it's likely not his fault. 

He's simply not the sort to do this on purpose - and, anyway, everybody knows he's more bravery than brains. 

But it might well be some other, less noble, Gryffindor having a laugh at her expense. Or somebody else, anyway. She's all too well aware she's not particularly well-liked outside her House (or inside it, when you get right down to it - she'll be the first to admit she comes by her reputation as a bitch as honestly as she comes by anything). So, for now she's going to be...displeased about it, and keep her wits about her: if somebody's out to get her, they likely haven't had a chance to strike yet.

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\

Pansy spends the rest of the day keeping an eye out for anything even slightly suspicious. Like, say, a [Gryffindor] student cackling to themselves, or smirking at her from the shadows, or just seeming to be out to get her - more than usual, anyway. This leaves her primed to jump at just about everything, while the overall mood of the school remains as tense but subdued as it's been for months. So of course nobody casts a spell on her, and nothing out of the ordinary happens, apart from the Dark Lord attacking Hogwarts.

But that's ordinary - or if not ordinary, at least not unexpected - today, too.

She walks to Charms with Tracey, just as always. And the lesson, itself, which she spends sat at her usual table - shared, as always, with Milly - is just the same, as well. As much of it as she gives her attention to, anyway. She's no problem with the practical part, of course - she's had some practice, after all - and Professor Flitwick gives the exact same lecture she remembers from two previous rounds of this. Pansy has a parchment in front of her the entire, but only half-heartedly fills it with notes. If she somehow manages to end this stupidity today, she'll just make Daffy share hers. It's not like Daffy isn't a better note-taker in the first place.

Milly asks, part-way through, "Alright, Pans?"

And Pansy only barely keeps herself from jumping in response. "Course - why wouldn't I be?"

Milly doesn't have an answer for that - or not one fit for public consumption, anyway - so they fall silent again, after.

But because Pansy's so on guard the entire lesson, what she does notice is that the class has noticeably shrunk - every single Gryffindor, and quite a few of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, who'd been there at the start of the year, are missing - and she knows she was paired with Padma Patil for an exercise as recently as...last week, certainly.

Yet neither of the Patils are here today, and Pansy does have an idea why: they've likely gotten in the Carrows' bad books. Many things at Hogwarts come back to the Carrows and, by extension, the Dark Lord, this year. But when? It must have been gradual: a Ravenclaw here, and a Gryffindor or two there. Padma Patil there one week, gone the next

Still, that's nothing to do with her. 

Pansy eats lunch distractedly - sits around their common room distractedly afterwards - and rounds things off with an equally distracted dinner. And even when she's got an entire Great Hall of wands being pointed at her, there's nothing - and still nothing after she and her housemates are herded off to the dungeons and their common room to wait out the fight - the only thing of note that happens is that Draco, trailed by Crabbe and Goyle, slips away from the rest of their house on the way to the dungeons, and doesn't return. She's still awake - and still watching - when the Dark Lord projects his voice into every corner of the castle once again, calling on the fighters to cease their resistance.

_It wouldn't have come to this if Poitter had just given himself up to start with._

She's no longer surprised when the next day starts exactly the same way. She may not know why it's happening, but it's clear that it is. She has to wonder whether the universe has decided to throw a fit because she dared to suggest they should just get on with it and send Potter out to meet the Dark Lord? Because it's not as though it was allowed to happen - and she stands by the suggestion besides. It was always going to happen, eventually, so why not speed the process along? And anyway, this way Potter could be sure of controlling the when.

She's already more than tired of living this particular day over again, and she's only on the 4th go-round - she's going to hear echoes of the Dark Lord's voice for the rest of her life, she's sure.

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\

Pansy had hoped, but as it turns out not offering Harry up doesn't change anything. Instead, she wakes up to a fifth morning of Daffy's overly cheerful alarm, Milly's bad aim with a pillow, and Tracey's primping, eats the same tea and toast at breakfast as always, and waves Milly off to Herbology once again - without asking any foolish questions this time. But she deviates from the previously well-worn routine of the day once they've made it back to the dungeons, pleading a headache (which, to be fair, may actually take up permanent residence if this goes on very much longer) and leaving Tracey to her letter.

"Can you take this," she says, holding that cursed Charms essay out to Tracey. "In case I'm still not feeling quite the thing."

And Pansy must actually look poorly, because Tracey takes the parchment with a nod and a gentle, "Go have a lie-down."

Pansy goes. Back in their dorm, she takes a pain potion, charms her bed to make it seem she's decided to sleep the day away, then casts a disillusionment charm on herself and slips silently away to the library. Because it's occurred to her that, much as she's loath to spend time on research, it's past time to crack a book on the subject. But for all that she spends this round and the next of this endless day missing Charms, lunch and dinner to research, the end result can be summed up in one cursed word: fruitless.

There are all sorts of time-related spells out there in the world: spells for determining the time of day precisely and for timing how long it takes to fly a circuit of a Quidditch pitch and for casting while brewing to ensure your potion simmers for exactly three minutes and not a second more. The charm that powers time-turners *could* have the effect Pansy's experiencing, but she'd have to have a time turner to make it work. So she'd know if it were that. Because when it comes right down to it, you can either cast a spell on yourself or have it cast on you by someone else, either directly (waving their wand at you) or indirectly (casting a charm on an object that activates under the right conditions) - that's just the way magic works. 

And somehow, in this case, it doesn't seem to be either.

Finally, after nearly a week of reliving the same day, with the Dark Lord's hissed demands filling her brain, Pansy thinks to check the Slytherin house 'library'. This is, in point of fact, a set of built-in bookcases, which contain a mix of books abandoned by students at the end of the year and an odd selection of things actually left to the house by various former Slytherins, plus a smattering of autographed copies of books by Old Slytherin authors and a few select volumes that wouldn't meet with general approval. Up at the top, there's a little name-plate engraved **'In memory of Professor Allegra Black, Head of House 1783-1804, by her fond Great-Niece Phoebe Black, authoress'** , not that Pansy's ever bothered to read it before. 

In point of fact, she's barely had anything to do with the 'library' her entire seven years in Slytherin.

So she's sitting there, on the library stool at the foot of the bookcase, surrounded by piles of useless books, when she really notices the adjacent portrait for the first time - notices it and thinks about the fact that the witch in the chair is looking on with some obvious interest. Which is more obvious interest than any adult has shown her in nearly a year. So why shouldn't she ask?

The nameplate at the bottom of the frame reads **Professor Allegra Black, Head of House 1783-1804** , and the handsome, dark-haired witch inside the frame is enough to leave Pansy staring. She's dressed in an empire-waisted, square-necked robe of dark, light-absorbing green (velvet, Pansy thinks), with hems heavy with silver embroidery, a row of tiny buttons down the back, and sleeves that form little puffs right at the shoulder, but are fitted to the arm from there to the wrist. More tiny buttons allow the sleeves to open to mid-forearm, and tiny scallops of silver lace trim the neckline and wrists. Her hair is threaded with silver, as well, and pulled back from her face in a sleek, elegant knot, while an armless chair, upholstered in brocade and turned half away from the table in the background, allows Professor Black her leisure. 

It wouldn't take much to outdo anything Professor Snape had ever worn while Head of House, but Professor Black is on an entirely different level than even Professor Lockhart had ever managed - and she's staring at Pansy, eyes sharp as anything behind her little round-lensed spectacles.

So Pansy swallows down her desire to just forget all of this and says, "May I ask you a question, in confidence?" It's of the utmost importance to get that specified up front, if she doesn't want the portrait toddling off to gossip about Pansy's problems with all her bosom friends and enemies. Who surely include in their number witches and wizards Pansy wishes to never hear of her problem - some of Pansy's own gossipy many times Great-Aunts, for instance.

Professor Black nods. "You may, Miss Parkinson. Indeed, it would be cruel for you to do anything else after so arousing my curiosity."

"In the strictest confidence?" Pansy insists.

"Unless you give me leave to do otherwise," Professor Black agrees, her tone suggesting she approves of Pansy's caution. 

And it's not a true magical oath, but Pansy can feel the light bond of it settle between them, anyway. _As it should be._ She shifts her stool closer to Professor Black's frame, the better to keep the conversation private without the aid of a muffliato, and settles herself on it again. Her throat is suddenly dry - there won't be tea things in the Slytherin common room until mid-morning break - but she swallows past the dryness and presses on, anyway, says, "Professor Black, have you - uh - ever heard of a spell that forces a person to repeat the same day over and over and over again? For no apparent reason?"

Professor Black's gaze sharpens even more. "Oh," she says, "there will be a reason, even if you have yet to perceive it."

"You have, then, Professor?" Pansy says, trying to not sound too eager, even though this is the first bit of hope she's been given in a week of living this same cursed day.

"Indeed. It is an ancient bit of magic, not in common usage in your day - and all but forgotten, even by those still bound by it. After all, it has been some time since Hogwarts feared attack on a regular basis, and even longer since this was considered a practical and necessary measure of defence by our house," Professor Black says. _Because Slytherins didn't trust each other to stand together rather than look out for their own interests_ does not need to be said.

Pansy's mind is rapidly turning over those statements, trying to make her current situation line up with them. "So, there's a Vow - or an Oath? Tied to Hogwarts?" That much is at least in line with things Pansy understands from her studies in N.E.W.T.-level Charms. "But I've never made one, not properly - so why me?" She's barely had anything to do with the attack on Hogwarts. "What's the purpose of…"

"A magical Oath, yes - and if it is as I suspect, one tied into into the defensive charms protecting Slytherin House, and by extension the school as a whole," Professor Black says, sounding pleased, like Pansy's begun to make actual headway with a lesson that's been giving her difficulties. "Now, you are a Prefect, and a seventh year - are you not?" 

"I am," Pansy says, not sure that she likes where this seems to be leading.

"Well, it is badly done that you are no longer told precisely what you're agreeing to when you accept a Prefect Badge - though, to be entirely fair, I am not certain that either Professor Slughorn or Professor Snape fully understood what the consequences of swearing the Head of House Oath were for themselves, so I could hardly expect them to adequately explain them to you - but you have to have noticed that your badge is tied into the magic of the school?" 

Pansy nods.

"That is a start, at least," Professor Black says, in a tone that says, all too clearly, _perhaps they're not entirely useless_. "Now, the charm associated with this Oath considers the seventh year prefects to be, in essence, apprentices to their Head of House, or their squires. Certainly, their second in command."

'More authority than we actually have these days, you mean," Pansy says. "But all the responsibility, still, it would seem."

Professor Black nods. "But this part of it only activates _in extremis_ \- it should not have begun to work upon you unless circumstances were such that it was possible for you to prevent the death of your Head of House - and you failed to even attempt to do so. And it won't end until you set things right."

"But why isn't Draco -"

"I could not say, except to speculate that whatever young Mister Malfoy was engaged in at the critical moment, the charm judged him to not be standing idly by."

And isn't that just like bloody Draco, to wriggle free on a technicality. "So Professor Slughorn died -"

"Not Slughorn," Professor Black cuts in, again. "He isn't bound to Slytherin by the Oath."

"But-"

"Yes, he is your Head of House, _in nomine_ , child - but as far as the magic is concerned, it's still bound to Professor Snape. I heard them discussing it with my own sharp ears, and Slughorn refused to have it, when he only intended to take the position for a year. They could both see what way things were headed - and if the Oath has taken action to prevent Professor Snape dying, it would seem they have arrived."

/' /' /'. '\ '\ '\


	2. To Fail

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\

Pansy hadn't really thought about who was gathered in the Great Hall and who wasn't, previously, beyond making sure her own housemates were accounted for as much as was possible - and being shocked by the fact that Potter and his little gang had turned up, of course. But now that she's been tasked with preventing Professor Snape's death, or at least making a good faith attempt at it - Professor Black hadn't been entirely clear on whether this was a 'return with your shield or on it' situation - it's glaringly obvious that he's missing

So, in the space where she'd previously suggested giving up Potter, Pansy finds herself asking, "Where's Professor Snape?"

Professor McGonagall's mouth thins unhappily at the question, but she does answer. "He's...otherwise engaged, Miss Parkinson. And so coordination of our defences falls to me, as Deputy Headmistress." Her tone dares anyone to challenge her claim.

And Pansy would, but there's nothing in it to challenge - not if Pansy isn't going to suggest giving up Potter - so she nods, tightly. 

After all, Professor McGonagall didn't actually answer Pansy's question properly, but she _is_ correct. In the absence of the headmaster, his duties do fall to his deputy. And despite the change from Dumbledore to Snape, that's still Professor McGonagall. Plus, it seems to Pansy that it's likely McGonagall doesn't know where Professor Snape is in the first place. And that she doesn't want to come right out and say that he'll be fighting for the Dark Lord. There's no sense getting everybody panicked, more than they are already. Or giving them ideas.

Anyway, it's not like anybody with eyes didn't already know.

"To continue with the announcements I was about to make," Professor McGonagall says, and then she's telling the assembled students and staff who's going to lead teams mounting defences in which parts of the castle, and who's allowed to stay and fight, and what will be done with the younger students.

Pansy doesn't bother paying attention. She won't be spending the night fighting, herself - or not in more than passing, anyway - not when her main purpose has to be attempting to discover how Snape is going to die, and prevent it, if possible. Even if it likely won't be. She's never been that lucky, not when it comes to things Potter has got himself involved in. 

Around her, masses of people set to preparing: older siblings comfort younger ones, prefects attempt to herd large numbers of tired, scared students off to safer quarters, the oldest of the students confer with their teachers before setting off to do battle.

Pansy still thinks giving Potter up is the best thing they can do - she's sure of it - but she's coming to realise that, in the short term, she's better off not drawing extra attention to herself by suggesting it. Strategic withdrawal may be a foreign concept to some people, but Pansy has long since learned that when you need information, the best thing you can do is be unremarkable. And anyway, it doesn't matter if they use the best tactics possible tonight.

That's for one of the several (many) tonights likely yet to come.

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\

The shoe, she finds, is quite on the other foot when you're a Slytherin in the midst of a battle against the Dark Lord's forces. And particularly when you've made a name for yourself, over the years, for being a first class bitch to anybody who isn't a Slytherin. Which is all to say: when you're Pansy Parkinson, there is no being unremarkable, even if you haven't just turned the entire rest of the school against you _again_ by threatening their favorite Gryffindor.

So, of course, as Pansy's attempting to slip out the main doors and put the time remaining before the Dark Lord officially attacks to good use, Granger says, "Where are you off to, Parkinson?"

It's said suspiciously, like Pansy couldn't possibly have a good reason for stepping foot outside Hogwarts' sheltering walls at this particular moment. Which, to be fair, she wishes she didn't. She is not, by nature, brave. But she doesn't think Granger will think much of her saying she needs to find Professor Snape, so she says, "Prefect duties." Because, technically, they are.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping with the younger students?" Granger says, staring at Pansy like this apparent dereliction of duty means that of course - obviously - she must be off to join up with the Death Eaters, never mind that she isn't actually Marked, or even more than dubiously connected to them. 

And, okay, she'd sort of generally agreed that purebloods should get the respect they were due. And that muggleborns caused all kinds of little problems - and some bigger ones - as they attempted to join wizarding society. But she hadn't ever thought that the solution to that was _death_. But she's not here to argue with Granger about what she might or might not believe, so all she says to that is, "The sixth years have it in hand - and I need to get to the greenhouses. Milly had an idea Slughorn liked." _Lies._

Milly's actually probably sitting in the Slytherin common room, trying to talk Daffy down, with help from Daffy's little sister, but Granger doesn't need to know that.

"Does Professor Sprout know about it?"

"Slughorn's taking care of that end," Pansy says with a shrug, continuing to lie with impunity, given the likelihood of Granger ever finding out. Pansy's almost certainly going to get another chance at this, after all.

And yet, Granger still looks dubious.

In the end, that reception is enough to send her back to the Slytherin common room, with a casual, "I'll see if Milly wants to come, too - make sure I get the right thing," and a vow to be a bit more stealthy the next time she makes the attempt. It's not like she can't cast a disillusionment charm just as well as - or better than - anybody in N.E.W.T DADA. After all, it's harder to attack effectively if you haven't looked to your own defense, first.

She can feel Granger's eyes on her the entire time she's crossing the entrance hall - puzzling her out, just like Granger always does - but she refuses to turn back to look.

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\

Pansy had made it out the front door, and then lost Potter and his gang in the utter chaos that was the battlefield outside the school the previous several times. The most recent but one, she'd taken shelter by the greenhouses - finally - until the Dark Lord had once again called for the defenders of the castle to bring in their dead and give up Potter after. This time, she'd given going out up as a bad job and stayed in - while doing her best to stay out of the fight.

She's decided that it might all work out a bit better if she does a bit more reconnaissance before she tries finding Professor Snape again - but actually seeing the damage the castle has taken, the emeralds spilled across the entrance hall, the dead bodies in rows in the Great Hall...

So all Pansy's thinking when she follows Potter up the great marble stairs is _he's been out and made it back in - maybe he's seen Professor Snape?_ He's got a bit of a head-start on her, though - and he's running flat-out - so it's tough going, trying to catch him up. Particularly since she doesn't want him to think she's coming after him to stop him doing whatever he's meaning to do. So it's no surprise that Pansy doesn't close the distance before he reaches the entrance to the Headmaster's office, gives the password, and slips up the staircase past the gargoyle. 

And how does Potter have the password, anyway? 

Well, he's Potter, so he likely charmed it out of McGonagall, like he did his spot on the Gryffindor quidditch team as a firstie, or just had the cursed blind luck to guess it first try. She's never been able to guess a single one of the passwords Snape set, and she's no desire to go up against the gargoyle. So she gets to wait.

And hope the gargoyle doesn't decide to rat her out to the Gryffindor authorities.

She's been waiting for about a quarter-hour when Potter descends the staircase again. He's looking...not entirely with it - and startles when he sees her leaning against the wall opposite. "Parkinson," he says, wary. "Did you need something?"

It sounds an awful lot like _have you come to take me to the Dark Lord?_ \- which, fair enough; he can't know that she wouldn't be any use for that.

"Do you know where Professor Snape is?" Pansy says, trying to not sound too much like she's accusing him of leaving Snape disillusioned and body-bound in his office upstairs. Or whatever.

"Dead," Potter says, seeming unnaturally calm about the whole thing. "Fraid Nagini - er, You-Know-Who's giant snake - got him. Someone needs to kill her. Me, if I get the chance. But somebody." 

There's a lot he's saying but not saying there: that he doesn't think he'll get the chance to because he'll be dead, that he's not expecting Pansy to be the one to find the snake and kill it if he doesn't, that he doesn't think it particularly matters if she knows any of this. Not that Pansy cares, especially. 

"Merlin, already?" And that's another time she's going to have to relive this day, at least. Not that she'd really thought she could figure out how to do it tonight. Any more than she'd managed to do it the other nights since she'd discovered 

Potter's blinking at her - for the language, or for her continued lack of interest in him - and fiddling with a battered gold pocket watch "Did you need him for something, because -"

"Only keeping him not-dead," Pansy says, just a trifle bitterly. It's been an absurd conversation from the beginning, particularly for her to be having with Potter. Or for Potter to be having with her.

And then the gargoyle cuts in and says, "Are you going to stand here yammering all night? Only, it's getting a trifle drafty, you see."

Potter says, "Sorry," reflexively, and steps off the stairs to the Headmaster's office, allowing the gargoyle to slide back into place

And then he's gone, off to do whatever it is he thinks he might not come back from. _Meet the Dark Lord...and die killing him?_ Pansy is left wondering what she's supposed to do with the rest of the pointless night. Sneak back to Slytherin and wait it out, she supposes. Snape's already dead, after all, so nothing else she might or might not do will matter one way or the other.

Daffy's alarm charm will be going off again soon enough, giving her another chance to improve upon her last attempt at this day.

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\

Given her conversation with Potter, Pansy's determined to stick to them this time. But it doesn't work - determination isn't enough - and she loses them somewhere between the main entrance and the Forbidden Forest. She's disillusioned, obviously, just like she has been every other time she's braved the battlefield spread across the Hogwarts grounds, and her charm holds just fine. But that just means she's potentially the unwitting target of everybody else's spells, airborne trees and pieces of castle, and people trying to run right through her. And, as it turns out, there's all that and more for her to avoid. Plus, she's not got any better at sneaking around than she's ever been; she's never had to be, properly, is the thing.

She can't plan for this - has to admit that she can't conceive of how to safely find Professor Snape on her own in the midst of all this madness.

So Pansy continues to stick to hanging back, disillusioned, around the edges of the battle, hoping that somehow she'll be able to spot Professor Snape that way. Not that it does her much good. Mostly what she discovers is that she doesn't much like being in the middle of an actual battle. For all her skill at DADA, in the end she's meant for the planned sneak attack or the formal duel, not the chaos of the battlefield.

She's truly not a Gryffindor, and never could have been.

Still, it's because she's watching from the edges that she's there to witness the death of a Gryffindor sixth year, the one that always used to pop up with a camera everywhere he wasn't wanted - Cheevers or Craven or Garvey or something like that? He doesn't have the camera with him now. He does have a wand, but one he must've got off someone who no longer had any use for it, by the way he seems to have to fight for every curse and hex and charm. Pansy can already tell it's not going to be enough to save him from the Death Eater he's dueling.

She's not going to be either - not when he's stood between her and the Death Eater, and casting wildly enough to interfere with anything she might try in the dark, and there's no clear path for her to get into a better position.

In his place, she'd disillusion herself and do a runner - she wants to yell at him, tell him to do the same - but he's a Gryffindor, so he stands and he fights until the bitter end. And in the end, he doesn't cry or cry out, but he's no more proof against the killing curse than any wizard not named Harry Potter. The Death Eater - Pansy can't tell who it is, between the hood and the distance and the darkness, but her parents may well have had him to to dinner - kicks the kid in the ribs, just to make sure he's dead, then captures his wand and turns to find someone else to fight. To kill.

And she finds herself thinking _he didn't need to die; he shouldn't be laying there, dead_ \- she'd always thought him annoying, but that's what jinxes are for, not the killing curse.

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\

After that, and watching Longbottom find the kid and carry him off the battlefield, there's a whole week of May firsts that Pansy spends laying in bed until the last possible moment, curtains spelled closed against her friends' attempts at getting her up. It's hardly the first time Pansy's faked illness to get out of facing a particularly awful day - and this one, and its neverending parade if terrible events, can only be described as 'perfectly awful' - so it's not hard to get them to leave her in peace. Not when they know perfectly well that when she's actually ill she never lets them hear the end of it.

(Draco's the opposite: he whinges extravagantly over the slightest papercut, but when he's properly ill, he hides himself away and doesn't want anything to do with anybody.)

She's still stuck with all the worst parts of the day, of course: being herded tiredly into the Great Hall with the rest of her housemates; listening to the Dark Lord's voice echo seemingly everywhere all around them; getting sent back to the dungeon to wait. Not that she fights that last part - she's no desire to brave the battlefield again without some kind of actual plan. But for all the thinking she's done about the problem, she can't seem to come up with anything actually worth trying.

And she won't ask for help until she's figured something out, because this is the kind of thing her housemates would expect her to deal with on her own unless she needed to bring them into it properly.

As she discovers two days in, the endless days of waiting, doing nothing, are actually worse than repeating the same Charms lesson fourteen times in a row. She can't believe she's thinking it, but she might understand Gryffindorks', well, everything, now, if this is how they feel all the time. But regardless of that, she's sure she can find a better way to spend her days while she works on finding a way to save Professor Snape's life.

If Professor Black knew she'd spent an entire week of repeated days not even trying to get somewhere with the problem - well, she'd have to know there was a problem, first - but Pansy can just imagine the look she'd be on the receiving end of.

Pansy would wonder why nobody else seems to think she's acting oddly, except, well, to them it's only ever one 'off' day, same as the day she first talked to Professor Black. And Slytherins tend to bide their time when it comes to that kind of thing. One day spent hiding under the covers or with your mind on other things doesn't actually mean anything as far as they're concerned.

They'll act when there's a pattern to observe - or the day in question has more obvious significance than the first of May.

It seems to her that if she's not going to attend lessons, then she'd best spend her days getting a better idea of what's going on outside of them. If she can figure out what will matter to all the people who might know the things she wants to know, what will make them (make Granger, the actual brains of the operation) take her seriously, then she might have a chance. Or at least more of one than she's had so far.

Because the best she's got now is _prevent Professor Snape from joining the battle_ , and she doesn't see how she's going to make that happen under the circumstances.

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\

At first, Pansy fails, and fails, and fails again.

It's not just the having to keep her mouth shut for hours on end, though she's certainly never been a quiet person unless she's deliberately giving someone the silent treatment. It's that she's never in the right place at the right time to learn anything worth knowing. She overhears snatches of lessons of all kinds; watches packs of firsties scuttle right by her, desperate to not be late; even catches a few couples snogging in alcoves. She considers docking points, but decides, in the end, that they're not her problem right now, even if she is a prefect.

If it were possible, she'd like a snog herself - but she's not sure there's anybody in the school she'd want to snog...who'd be willing to snog her in return.

Eventually, she decides that what she actually needs to do is concentrate on following the right people around. Sixth years and seventh years, Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws: Potter's potential friends and allies. But even that's not much better, because they're wary, already, and mostly go straight from dorm to Great Hall to classroom and back. Really, the only thing of note she learns is just how different life with the Carrows is if you aren't a Slytherin or, maybe, a Ravenclaw.

She can say with some certainty: she would /not/ trade places, thanks ever so.

A few of them take the occasional cautious detour to the seventh floor, but she can never manage to figure out where they've gone. There's certainly nothing hidden behind the tapestry of the trolls performing ballet. And she knows there's something hidden up there, because Draco hinted about it last year, when he'd had his project. But it's clear she's not going to find it without further assistance. She could ask him - but the fact that he's not suffering through endless repetitions of 1 May with her has made her want nothing to do with him until she knows what she means to make him do.

So that leaves getting someone else to tell her, if she can - but at least, by now, she's some idea who. 

The first five times Pansy tries to talk to Parvati Patil, while they're all still stood about the Great Hall, preparing to face the Dark Lord, the Gryffindor gives her a chilly look and walks off with Brown, sure in her knowledge that she doesn't care to hear anything Pansy has to say. Pansy is left seething over the idea that anybody would dare to ignore her so completely, not even taking the slightest notice of her very important desire for information - while her conscience forces her to acknowledge that she hasn't given Parvati anything even slightly resembling a good reason to talk to her in years.

On its own, politeness isn't going to be enough, but Pansy wasn't sorted Slytherin for nothing - she's well aware that there's more to talking than just saying the words.

She's not a sentimental person, in general. But she still has the gift the Patil twins gave her for her eleventh birthday - her Hogwarts birthday - in the jewelry box in her trunk. It sits in a little velvet bag, a silver charm bracelet with only one charm: a delicate pansy, charmed to bloom in the morning, remain open throughout the day, then furl in on itself at night. Pansy hasn't worn it since she was eleven, but the chain sizes itself to fit her when she puts it on the next time she wakes up. She'll take every advantage she can get in convincing the Gryffindorks and their allies to take her seriously.

Not all of them will understand her message, but she thinks the Patils will - and that's still more potential allies than she's had up til now

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\


	3. To Triumph

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\

In the end, Draco ends up being the one who tells her, after all. They cross paths in the wreckage of the castle, while everyone else is mourning the dead, and Pansy acts on instinct, dragging him off into an empty classroom and sitting him down at a table. Draco, surprisingly, doesn't fight her.

Or maybe not so surprisingly: he looks utterly wrecked, like he's had a run-in with the wrong end of a Blast-Ended Skrewt - and escaped a Boggart or a Dementor as a chaser.

"Draco?" she says, cautiously reaching out to touch his hand.

He shudders, hunching on himself, keeping his eyes trained on the table.

Pansy doesn't dare move, or speak - she's never seen him like this before. Even at the worst of last year, he'd not let how badly it was affecting him show /this much/. Whatever this is, it's worse, clearly.

But when he does speak, finally, the words come tumbling out. "We were going to capture Potter, take him to the Dark Lord," Draco says. "He went into that room on the seventh floor, you know the one where I spent all that time working last year? So I asked it to give us the room where Potter was - and it was the same room, the Room of Hidden Things."

Pansy nods, not that Draco's looking at her to see it - he can't seem to stop staring down at his hands.

"It was almost too easy to take him by surprise - he wasn't expecting us to have been able to follow him in. But of course it didn't stay easy. It's Potter, after all."

And doesn't Pansy know it - she's never played him at quidditch like Draco has, but she's had six years of watching from the sidelines.

"He was there looking for something someone had left there - there's so much stuff in there, you could look for days and never find what you're looking for if you don't get lucky. And _accio_ doesn't work. But the tiara thing he wanted was right there. He'd almost gotten it, too, before we showed up."

"If it hadn't been for you, he'd have been there and gone," Pansy says, trying to sound a little sympathetic, though she's honestly rooting for Potter getting to do whatever he needs to to kill the Dark Lord at this point.

Draco snort out an ugly little choking laugh and says, "Well, that's where it went wrong, of course. We tried to keep him from taking it - he tried take it and escape. Crabbe tried to _crucio_ him, tried to kill Potter's friends. They fought back, of course - and then, when they'd disarmed Goyle and me, Crabbe cast Fiendfyre. Idiot"

Crabbe never has thought before doing - he's all ambition and base cunning. Pansy shakes her head: she can already see how this story ends.

"We only escaped because the Gryffindors found some brooms, and Potter made Granger and the Weasel take Goyle along - and he took me. And the fucking tiara, in the end."

"Crabbe?" Pansy asks, just to make Draco say it.

"Got himself burned to death. I almost thought I was going to end up the same when Potter went back for the tiara, but, well, Potter's own luck." He laughs, brittily. "The tiara - diadem - turned out to be something called a horcrux, according to Granger - and Fiendfyre destroys them, apparently."

They sit there, in silence, for ages after that - Pansy's honestly not sure how long - but they're still there when the sounds of battle start up again outside.

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\

Every time, Pansy gets noticed as soon as she steps through the door to the Room - it's clearly not the Room of Hidden things Draco was describing, but still certainly a Room - and shuts it behind her. Firmly. First there's a moment of stunned silence - and then a clamor of disbelieving voices, all saying variations on the same sorts of things. Exactly the things she'd expected, if she's being honest -

"Parkinson?!"

"How'd she get in here?"

"The spell's working, isn't it, mate?"

"Has to be - the Carrows are still on _their_ side of the door."

"But she's a Slytherin."

\- and on and on and on, around and around in circles, while Pansy stands there and takes it. Why should they just trust her? She wouldn't if she were them. They don't know what she's been going through, day after day after endless day - though she's got a somewhat better idea about what it's been like for them - so last they knew she didn't mind any of this year's changes one bit. That's never been entirely true - after all, who'd want less freedom as a seventh year than they had as a firstie?

But eventually she gets tired of listening to them repeat themselves and cuts in to ask, "So I can't think the one's a creepy arsehole and the other's a sadistic bitch?" She tries to keep her tone just right - and holds up her hands so they can see she's not holding her wand (and, not coincidentally, so the charm bracelet is visible). 

"That would be the first thing you've been right about in seven years," Longbottom says, plainly - drawing a laugh.

"I might say the same about you," Pansy fires right back. "But I think we can also agree that the Dark Lord's a complete knob, no?"

And every time, after the first time it works, Pansy says it again, like she's saying lines in a play, because she knows when to take a good thing and run with it.

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\

Pansy's not usually one for having a snog where just anyone can see, but it's dark and, anyway, needs must-

There's no time to ask, no time to even warn Granger. All Pansy can do is lunge, get her mouth on Granger's, shut her up with a kiss. _Better._ She's not expecting Granger to actually kiss back. Or if she did, to be good at it.

So, of course, little miss perfect prefect Granger Exceeds Expectations and does both.

_Had Granger ever been kissed before this? Did Krum try it on with her?_

The first kiss had been a necessity - they'd already been hidden by the shadows, but Granger wouldn't shut up, and Pansy hadn't been about to get them caught because Granger couldn't take a hint - but she keeps snogging her because she's been wanting to snog somebody for longer than she wants to think about, and turns out Granger's talented at a lot of things. And doesn't mind kissing girls. And Pansy's pragmatic like that.

Eventually they'll leave the shelter - hah - of the Whomping Willow, but that's a decision for later Pansy to make, along with whether to tell Granger about the whole ridiculous situation that led to Pansy being there in the first place and whether to try this again, the next time she gets a chance.

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\

A quick _colloportus_ on the door is standard - but Pansy adds an imperturbable charm, just to be sure. What she's about to tell Tracey isn't something she wants just anybody overhearing just yet. When she turns back around, Tracey's sat at the end of her bed, legs hanging over the footboard and hands folded neatly in her lap. Her expression says that _whatever Pansy dragged her off to their room for had better be good_.

Pansy's been trying to think how to say this best ever since she reached the point of being convinced the situation would be improved by bringing more hands onboard - and the fact of the matter is that there isn't any better way of doing it that flat-out saying, "Look, I can't explain how I know this, but You-Know-Who is going to turn up here, tonight - and so is Potter - and Potter is going to kill him. Potter is going to win. It's going to be all over for anybody who was with _him_. And I don't intend to be on the losing side."

Tracey spends a moment digesting this, staring at Pansy as though if she just looks carefully enough she'll be able to figure out if Pansy's serious? If Pansy's actually Pansy? It is a lot to take in, Pansy supposes, particularly coming from her. Tracey's spent seven years getting an up-close-and-personal view of Pansy's growing hatred for Potter and all he stands for. As far as she knows, yesterday Pansy would've sooner seen Potter dead than lift a wand to help him in any way. Not that she's explicitly said anything about lifting a wand in his favour so far.

"So...what are you proposing to do about that?" is what Tracey eventually says.

"That I do my duty as a prefect and make sure Slytherin doesn't give Potter any trouble, to start with," Pansy says. That's the easy, unobjectionable part. "And that anybody who's willing bring their wands - and their...other weapons - to the fight. I will not see Professor Snape dead and the school destroyed because we would not aid in their protection."

She's watched Professor Snape die at the fangs of the Dark Lord's pet snake enough times at this point to be thoroughly offended on behalf of her house - and thoroughly determined to show that Slytherins always use their wands. He couldn't even be bothered to cast a spell or at least do a spot of discreet poisoning like a proper wizard. The lack of respect!

"Do you have a plan for convincing them to do that, already?"

Pansy nods and says, "The start of one, anyway…"

After she's explained, and Tracey's agreed that if Potter's already certain to win, she prefers to be unequivocally with him rather than against him, Pansy goes to Charms for the first time in weeks. later that afternoon, she repeats the process with Milly and Daffy.

Milly sits cross-legged against her headboard with her cat in her lap - while Daffy settles in the chair at her desk. They're both giving Pansy their entire attention. It's been a while since she's made them sit still and listen to her, at least in her world. In theirs it's only been days.

Still, there's nothing for it but for Pansy to take a deep breath and plunge in with an abbreviated version of the speech she'd given Tracey, earlier. "Look. the Dark Lord is going to lose tonight - Potter's going to kill him, somehow - and I don't intend on going down with the losing side."

"Got a plan for that," Daffy asks, unknowingly echoing Tracey - though it's also the obvious question to ask.

"Loads," Pansy says, warming to her subject. "If you're willing to help."

"If you're sure about Potter winning," Milly says. "Yeah, I'm in." 

Daffy just nods, but the Greengrasses have always been a more moderate family, so that's no surprise.

So Pansy tells them. "We need to take the Carrows out - not kill them, just get them in bodybinds and contained properly - and Crabbe and Goyle, to stop them causing trouble. I need to talk to Draco, Theo and Blaise the way I'm talking to you. We need to figure out which of the sixth years and fifth years that've already turned 16 to do the same about and get them on board. Somebody needs to convince Professor Snape to stay and defend the castle instead of going to get killed by the Dark Lord. That might have to be Draco, or the both of us. But I'm pretty sure all the castle defences will work better if the headmaster is working with them instead of against them. And then I need to go and convince the other houses that we want to help them with some other things." Destroying the diadem, retrieving the basilisk fangs."And eventually some of us are going to have to act as decoys? Bait? But that's only if all the rest of this works."

"The other houses," Milly says, "you mean all the people who've been missing lessons for ages?"

"You know about them?" Pansy says.

"Yeah," Milly says. shaking her head. "Longbottom hasn't been to Herbology for two weeks, either. And Brown missed lessons this week. I figured the Carrows got 'em, but I really hoped I was wrong."

Pansy shakes her head, ruefully - figures that Milly would notice and not say anything - she's always kept her own counsel, unmoved by Pansy's whims and fancies. "They're safe - they found a place to hide, where the Carrows can't get to them."

Daffy has the next question. "What did you mean by some of us being decoys - or bait?"

"Well, the way I figure it," Pansy says, and gets ready to explain for the first of what she now expects to be many times.

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\

It takes more days of trying than Pansy would've liked, but the time does finally come when Pansy thinks the entire plan is ready to be tried, so she's there and waiting when Longbottom comes back up the tunnel trailed by Potter and his gang. And she's ready to cut in before Potter can even gather breath to object. "The Dark Lord is on his way - and you came here to find something that'll help defeat him, right? Well, I know where it is."

It's Granger who responds, of course, says. "Oh, you do, do you, Parkinson? Tell us what you know and then we'll get back to the question of why you're _here_ in the first place."

Pansy shrugs and says, "It's some sort of tiara? diadem? thing - has the Ravenclaw motto on it - and it's here, but not here-here."

"Ravenclaw's diadem?" one of the Ravenclaws says (just like they do every time Pansy says this). "But that's been missing for ages!"

"Well, we're about to find it and destroy it," Pansy says. "Gotta do whatever it takes to defeat the Dark Lord."

"Why do you suddenly care about any of this?" Granger asks then, bluntly. "Last I knew, you wanted him to win." 

Suddenly Pansy's just...tired, and she probably sounds it when she says, "I don't want there to be a proper battle at Hogwarts any more than you do - and he. Is. A. Complete. Knob." And Pansy may not ever really know what convinces Granger to hear her out, but if Granger were to admit that it was that, Pansy sounding exactly as done with it all as she is, well, it wouldn't be a surprise.

What she does know is that next thing she knows Granger is asking, "do you have any other helpful hints or useful suggestions?" 

And Granger's probably not expecting any of Pansy's flood of detailed information and suggestions, but there's a particular satisfaction in finally getting her chance to say, in the middle of that discussion -

"Don't be stupid - of course you should have hostages, but willing ones." _Gryffindors._ "Us," Pansy says, just to make sure they get the point.

\- and knowing that this is going to be it. They have Professor Snape on side - and now that Potter and co are here, they can bring McGonagall in, properly. Tonight can, finally, be the night.

/' /' /' '\ '\ '\

It was decided that they shouldn't make it obvious ahead of time that Slytherin had come on board to defeat the Dark Lord, though Professor Snape's presence is, perhaps, a slight clue. But as soon as his amplified voice fades out, the 5th year prefects drop back to organise the younger years for getting to safety in as orderly a way as possible - and Pansy steps forward. She stands at the front of a wedge of Slytherins - Milly, Daffy and Tracey stair-stepped back to her left; Draco, Theo and Blaise mirroring them to her right; and most of the 6th years, plus a few of the older 5th years, stood ranged behind them.

"Nobody gets to attack Hogwarts on our watch." The plan is to stop that in its tracks.

"Miss Parkinson," Professor McGonagall says, "this is unexpected."

Pansy meets Granger's eye from across the room, gets a slight nod from her, "It's been a long time coming, Professor. But, in the end, Slytherins are nothing if not politic."

Professor McGonagall nods and continues, "Now, as I was saying before - everybody of age who wants to help with the defence can stay, and all the rest of you will be taken to safety. And that includes your Slytherins, Miss Parkinson."

"They're all at least 16, Professor - and that's of age _in Scotland_." Thanks to Granger for that useful tid-bit. "If they want to help with the defence, I'm not going to tell them no. Not when we can use every wand we can get." If Slughorn and McGonagall can honestly say they won't be better off with more Slytherins contributing, well, Pansy might listen, but they won't. Not after she tells them the important bit. "Anyway, you need as many of us as you can get...because we can do something you can't: make it possible to take out most of the Death Eaters before they even realize there might be a threat."

"That won't help with the giants - or Fenrir Greyback and his wolves - but you think we can cut off this attack before it begins in earnest?"

And Pansy nods, and steps forwarding, moving to meet Granger in the middle - there's a new day on the horizon, finally, and when Pansy steps out the main entrance of Hogwarts with the other Slytherins, to 'escort Potter to the Dark Lord', it'll be Granger disillusioned at Pansy's back.

/' /' /'. '\ '\ '\


End file.
